


Light

by Underling



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Beating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:23:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underling/pseuds/Underling
Summary: For what it was worth, Clay was holding his own. His mouth was bloody, as was his nose and forehead. His bag was kicked away from him, his phone and headphones scattered beside it.Clay glanced over, making eye contact briefly with Tony, shaking his head, before Montgomery took advantage of his distraction, landing a kick to Clay’s stomach and pushing him back onto the ground, the back of his head hitting the concrete with a crack.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I normally write Hamilton stuff *Shrugs*  
> This is a first and I don't really know if it's any good, but hey, whateva.  
> Hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For what it was worth, Clay was holding his own. His mouth was bloody, as was his nose and forehead. His bag was kicked away from him, his phone and headphones scattered beside it.
> 
> Clay glanced over, making eye contact briefly with Tony, shaking his head, before Montgomery took advantage of his distraction, landing a kick to Clay’s stomach and pushing him back onto the ground, the back of his head hitting the concrete with a crack.

...

**Tony**

Tony couldn’t say Liberty High was boring.

Sure, some days seemed to drag on, but most, if not all, days did have something interesting happen.

Which was exactly what Tony was thinking as he walked out the front doors and saw the student body gathered in a large circle, obviously egging on a fight. 

Tony shook his head, fully intent on just walking past, when he heard someone shout, “Come on, Jensen! Fight back, dammit!”

Tony paused, turning back to the rest of the students.

It was easy to pick out Montgomery’s voice, making it just as easy to realize who was fighting who.

He began pushing his way through, ignoring the dirty looks people would give him. 

For what it was worth, Clay was holding his own. His mouth was bloody, as was his nose and forehead. His bag was kicked away from him, his phone and headphones scattered beside it.

Clay glanced over, making eye contact briefly with Tony, shaking his head, before Montgomery took advantage of his distraction, landing a kick to Clay’s stomach and pushing him back onto the ground, the back of his head hitting the concrete with a crack.

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Montgomery stood still, staring down at Clay, whose eyes were wide as he sat up, bringing a hand to the back of his head, coming back bloody.

Clay’s hands began shaking, unable to stare at the blood coating his hand.

“Jensen?” Montgomery asked, voice almost worried, though Tony knew he wasn’t worried for Clay, but worried about what would happen to himself if something bad happened to Clay.

Clay put both hands down on the ground, pushing himself up on shaking legs, nearly falling forward.

Tony rushed towards him, catching him before he could fall, holding him up. 

“I’m fine,” Clay whispered, though he was holding Tony’s jacket tightly in one hand. 

Tony laughed softly, walking him towards where he had parked his Mustang, grabbing Clay’s bag and phone, and casting a glare over his shoulder at Montgomery, who was still staring at them. “I’ll judge that for myself,” Tony replied. 

Finally they made it to the car and Tony opened the passenger door for Clay, helping him sit down in the seat. He closed the door, walking around to the driver side and climbing it, looking Clay over. “How’s your head feel?”

Clay was staring out the window, but turned his head to look at Tony, giving him a bloody smile. “Awful.”

…

**Clay**

Head down.

That’s how Clay had been walking around since Bryce’s trial had started. 

It was in the middle of the already going trial that it was revealed that Bryce had raped Hannah, and that started a trial of his own. 

Clay tried not to be involved too much in that trial, but it was obvious that it was his voice on the recording, and it only took a few days for that news to be spread around the school.

The other people on the tapes didn’t really say much to him, tried to avoid him, actually, since the trial had started. 

But every other student did.

He had essentially fucked over the star high school player. Everyone’s hero.

And people made it known to him. 

He could ignore it. In fact, he had ignored almost all of it.

But today was different. 

He woke up on edge. Woke up wanting to argue, or fight, or scream, or cry. He just felt off.

No one talked to him throughout the school day, save for Skye and Tony. 

And even those conversations hadn’t really lasted all that long.

It was warm outside, but Clay kept his sweatshirt on, walking through a small crowd of students, hearing Montgomery talking loudly.

“This whole trial shit is fucking stupid,” he was saying, a chorus of agreements sounding around him. “How do they even know that recording wasn’t faked?”

 _Just walk_ , Clay thought to himself.

“Clay!” his name was shouted and he stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face Montgomery, who, in the mere moments since he had last spoke, had made his way to Clay. “Why don’t you tell us.”

Clay swallowed thickly, looking around as more students came over, obviously wanting to see what was going on. “Tell you what?” he asked.

“If the recording is real,” Montgomery said, rolling his eyes as if Clay just should have known. “How do we know you didn’t just fake the whole recording. I mean, you were too much of a coward to come forward with it, you just spoke about it and let everyone figure it out for themselves.”

Clay remained silent, not wanting to say anything to give Montgomery the satisfaction of hearing him. 

“Or, maybe,” Montgomery continued. “You didn’t say anything because you suddenly realized how much of a slut Hannah really was.”

That was it. That simple statement. And suddenly Clay’s mind was shut off and he was throwing a punch, landing it square on Montgomery’s nose. 

A thin line of blood started to dribble from Montgomery’s nose and he wiped it slowly with his hand.

Montgomery looked at the blood on his fingers, nose crinkling slightly at the sight of it. 

Clay swallowed thickly, watching as rage began to fill the other boy’s eyes.

“You fucked up, Jensen,” Montgomery said, voice low, and suddenly Clay wanted nothing more than to take off running in the other direction.

But by that point, all the other students had blocked his means of escape.

And a second later, a fist was crashing into his own nose.

Montgomery was fast. He landed hit after hit on Clay before Clay could even process what had happened.

Clay raised his hands to cover his face, though he could already feel the blood pouring down his face.

“Come on, Jensen!” Montgomery shouted. “Fight back, dammit!”

He heard grumbles in the crowd, and turned his head slightly, locking eyes with a worried looking Tony, hands clenched into fists.

In those brief moments when Clay was distracted, he felt something land a blow to his stomach, followed by two hands pushing him back, hard.

Time moved slowly. He watched the world moving by, and just as quickly as the initial hit, his head was knocking against the ground, a ringing coming soon after.

Clay wasn’t sure how long he lay there on the ground. To him, it felt like hours, but when he finally pushed himself up, everyone was just as they had been.

Montgomery was staring at him, satisfaction and a hint of remorse on his face.

Clay reached a hand up, rubbing the back of his head, now warm with blood, and bringing it back, staring at the red color.

“Jensen?” Montgomery’s voice sounded hazy, and Clay’s hands began shaking, his stomach rolling.

He put his hands on the ground, pushing himself up, watching the world spin as he nearly fell forward, before two strong arms were holding him up, and he realized moments later that it was Tony.

“I’m fine,” Clay mumbled, hands holding as tightly as he could to the leather of Tony’s jacket. 

Clay registered a laugh from Tony as they began walking, watched the other pick up his own discarded things. “I’ll judge that for myself,” was his reply.

Clay let Tony help him into his Mustang, didn’t even care to ask about where his bike was. 

The door shut behind him, and seconds later the door on the driver’s side opened and closed and the car started up. “How’s your head feel?” Tony asked.

Clay tried to smile, though he could taste blood in his mouth. “Awful,” he told him, laying his head back and struggling to keep his eyes open.

…

**Tony**

Tony pulled up to the garage nearly fifteen minutes later, parking the Mustang and shutting it off. “You still alive over there?” he asked Clay.

He watched as Clay turned his head to look at him, face paler than before. “Technically, yes,” he mumbled. “I don’t feel like it though.”

Tony hummed, getting out of the driver’s side and walking around to the passenger door, opening it up and helping Clay out. “My brothers are here today,” he told him. “But my dad isn’t, so there won’t be too many questions. And he won’t make some off-hand comment to my mom and she won’t tell your mom.”

Clay nodded, still leaning pretty heavily on Tony as they walked through an open garage door, and Tony could imagine his head was pounding at the loud sounds of mechanical parts. 

“Tony!” someone shouted, and he turned his head to see his eldest brother, Dominic, covered in oil and standing up beside an old junk truck, something their dad had insisted they work on, despite the fact that none of them actually thought they could fix. 

Tony stopped walking, sighing gently. “Yes, Dom?” He questioned, calling over the loud noises paired with music from the beat box. 

“ _¿Está bien tu chico?_ ” His brother questioned, nodding to Clay, who didn't look confused by the Spanish, but more nervous just from looking at the other man. 

Tony grit his teeth together. “ _Va a estar bien. Déjalo_ ,” he snapped, already walking away, though he caught his brother holding up his hands in surrender, the sounds of him working starting up again as Tony led Clay through a door and to the back office. 

“Sit,” Tony told Clay, pulling out a chair from behind the desk, sitting Clay down in it, watching him slump down in it. 

Clay looked up at him, one eye was swollen now and red, looking far more painful than Tony could imagine. 

“What’d your brother say?” Clay asked, voice scratchy. “The Spanish?”

Tony chuckled softly, shifting through the drawers of the desk, before finally producing a small first aid kit. “Just asked if you were okay,” he said simply, leaving out the part where his brother had called Clay ‘his boy’. Clay didn’t need to know about that. Clay didn’t need that. Tony knew that.

That answered seemed to be okay for Clay, and he only nodded, closing his eyes again.

…

**Clay**

Clay didn’t know how long the car ride had been. It seemed like an eternity, maybe even two, but finally the car was being shut off and Tony was speaking. “You still alive over there?”

Clay turned to look at him, feeling cold as he did so. “Technically, yes,” he said, noting how quiet his voice was. “I don’t feel like it though.”

He listened as Tony made a humming sound, watched as he got out of his side, and waited for his own door to open, too weak to do so himself. Too weak to even try to do so himself. 

Seconds later the door was opening and Tony was there again, helping him out. “My brothers are here today,” Tony was telling him. “But my dad isn’t, so there won’t be too many questions. And he won’t make some off-hand comment to my mom and she won’t tell your mom.”

Clay screamed at himself in his mind. _Dammit. Mom._

He could imagine what would happen if his mom were to find out about the fight. He was almost certain that she would drag him straight to the principle’s office and demand justice be brought down against whoever bruised and bloodied up her son’s face. 

Clay leaned his body against Tony’s again, using him as a crutch to make sure he didn’t fall to the ground in a heap. They walked through an open door to the garage, and Clay was immediately hit with the sounds of the shop. He’d been there once or twice before now, but all sounds were amplified by thousands now. Sounds of drills and loud music mingled together into an almost piercing noise in Clay’s head.

“Tony!” the voice shouting caused Clay to flinch slightly, startling him. He heard Tony sigh, and turned with him to see a man - who he recognized as one of Tony’s brothers - standing beside a truck, a concerned and… knowing look on his face. What he knew, Clay didn’t know, and at that point he didn’t care to know. All he cared about was feeling better. Was getting the pounding in his head to stop. 

“Yes, Dom?” Tony asked.

 _Dominic,_ Clay thought. _The oldest brother._

Dominic was still staring at them and Clay found that he didn’t particularly like the look he was getting from the eldest Padilla brother. “ _¿Está bien tu chico?_ ” he finally asked and Clay knew he was speaking in Spanish to make sure he didn’t know what was being said.

Clay glanced up at Tony, watched the way his jaw clenched at the question, and found himself wondering what had been asked, before Tony answered, “ _Va a estar bien. Déjalo,_ ” the way he said it spoke volumes. His voice was irritated and he knew whatever Dominic had said had struck a chord that pissed off Tony slightly. 

Tony started walking them away again, but Clay continued to watch as Dominic held his hands up, winking at him - or was that just a figment of Clay’s currently screwed up mind? 

They walked through another door as Dominic started back to work on something under the hood of the truck. The sounds in the room - Clay realized it must be an office, based on the desk that sat in the back of it - were muffled immediately, giving Clay some relief. 

“Sit,” Tony told him, and Clay realized he had pulled out a chair and that he was pushing him down into it. Not unkindly, but not incredibly gently. Forcefully, but not rudely. 

Clay looked up at Tony, noticing the way his undershirt was now slightly stained with blood, his blood. It was hard to look at Tony, one eye blurry, and he knew he’d have a terrible black eye.

Tony was looking at him now and Clay tried to think up something to say, to ask, to mention. “What’d your brother say?” he settled voice, noting how his voice was scratchy and his throat was sore. “The Spanish?”

Tony wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he laughed softly. He was looking instead through the drawers of the desk, until he pulled out a first aid kit, something Clay never realized how happy he could be just seeing. “Just asked if you were okay,” he told him, though the face he pulled next told Clay that something else had been said, but he couldn’t work up the courage to question what it was, and instead just closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

…

**Tony**

Tony looked through the first aid kit, trying to decide what he needed to do first. 

He grabbed out a antiseptic wipe, figuring the most logical first step was to clean the blood off Clay’s face to help figure out what needed to be bandaged up, and he praid that nothing needed to be stitched up. Hospitals meant parents and parents meant trouble. 

And besides, the last thing Clay’s mom needed right now was for her son to be fucked up in the middle of this trial. She was worried and on edge enough as it was.

Tony began wiping the blood off Clay’s lips, working his way up his face. His lip was split, something that Tony already knew. He had a cut on cheek, his eyebrow, his forehead. All of them looked painful. His nose had stopped bleeding, thankfully, and after wiping off the blood there, it was the most cleaned up. 

“Well,” Tony started, watching as Clay opened his eyes slowly. “On the bright side, you aren’t going to need stitches. On the down side,” he murmured, starting to put a bandage on his forehead and cheek. “You’re going to have to wear these bandages in awful places. And you’re going to have to clean the wounds and rebandage them.”

Clay made a humming sound, almost as if he couldn’t find it in himself to care much about his injuries.

Tony finished placing the last bandage on Clay’s forehead, when the door to the back room opened, revealing another one of Tony’s brothers. 

“ _¿Qué quieres, Eric?_ ” Tony asked, voice slightly exasperated. 

Eric looked from Tony to Clay, chuckling softly. “You got fucked up, little dude,” he said towards Clay, who raised both eyebrows and nodded. 

Eric turned to Tony again. “ _¿Quién lo hizo?_ ” He questioned. 

Tony shook his head. “ _No importa_ ,” he murmured. 

Eric groaned. “ _Sí importa. ¿Quién lo hizo?_ ” He asked again. 

“What?” Clay asked suddenly, voice confused and annoyed. “What are you two saying?”

Neither of them answered and Clay let out a loud sigh. “Tony?” He asked, voice quiet. 

Tony felt his heart skip, the tone of Clay’s voice making Tony almost feel bad for not letting him in on what they were saying. 

Eric, on the other hand, seemed to make a decision before Tony could, and groaned. “I'm trying to figure out who fucked up my brother’s boy’s face,” he muttered. “But Tony won't tell me.”

“That's it!” Tony snapped, pushing his brother out of the room. “Out. Get out. Go.”

Eric rolled his eyes but left anyways, and Tony couldn't help but slam the door behind him. 

…

**Clay**

Tony was looking through the first aid kit, Clay watching as different cheap medical equipment was tossed about, till Tony settled on a pack of antiseptic wipes. 

Clay sat still as Tony began wiping down his face, trying to keep his pain off his face. His lip hurt the worst, stinging so much that his eyes began to water, but he eventually became used to the pain, and was just able to ignore it. He closed his eyes again, trying to think of anything else

“Well,” Tony’s voice snapped him out of his reverie and he opened his eyes to look at the older boy. “On the bright side, you aren’t going to need stitches. On the down side,” Tony was speaking softly as he put bandages where they were needed. “You’re going to have to wear these bandages in awful places. And you’re going to have to clean the wounds and rebandage them.”

Clay hummed softly, trying to appear indifferent despite the fact that he was still slightly buzzing with pissed off energy. 

Tony was fixing the bandage on his forehead now when the door opened, and Clay looked at it slowly. 

It was easy to recognize another one of Tony’s three brothers, each of them having the same eyes and facial structure, though each of them did have their own unique traits. 

“ _¿Qué quieres, Eric?_ ” Tony asked, and Clay couldn't help but think he sounded a bit pissed off at being interrupted. 

Eric was looking from Tony to Clay and back again, a few times in fact, before he spoke. “You got fucked up, little dude.”

Clay nodded slightly, raising his eyebrows as if to say _I know._

Eric was looking at his brother again. “ _¿Quién lo hizo?_ ” He asked, almost sounding angry. 

Tony was shaking his head. “ _No importa_ ,” he replied. 

Eric was groaning loudly. “ _Sí importa. ¿Quién lo hizo?_ ” He asked, repeating the Spanish again. 

“What?” Clay asked quickly, annoyed at not being able to understand them, and a bit sad at the thought of being left out of the conversation. “What are you two saying?”

Neither one of them answered him and Clay found himself sighing loudly. “Tony?” He questioned, voice quiet, feeling slightly hurt at being ignored. 

Tony’s face seemed to change, almost looking sad or maybe heartbroken, but Clay couldn't figure out why. 

Eric groaned again, and Clay looked over at him. “I'm trying to figure out who fucked up my brother’s boy’s face,” he said lowly. “But Tony won't tell me.”

By that point, Clay wasn't thinking about the fact that Tony wasn't telling his brother who had done it, but was more focused on how Eric had described him. He couldn't figure out if it bothered him or confused him

“That's it!” Tony snapped, making Clay jump as he began pushing his brother out of the room. “Out. Get out. Go.”

Eric rolled his eyes, and in a brief moment where Tony wasn't looking, winked quickly at Clay, and then began to walk out, leaving Tony to slam the door after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr  
> https://underaspark.tumblr.com  
> Send me messages, say hi, send me dumb history facts (I love dumb history facts)
> 
> ROUGH Translations
> 
> ¿Está bien tu chico?  
> Is your boy all right?
> 
> Va a estar bien. Déjalo.  
> It's going to be okay. Leave it alone.
> 
> ¿Qué quieres, Eric?  
> What do you want, Eric?
> 
> ¿Quién lo hizo?  
> Who did it?
> 
> No importa.  
> It doesn't matter.
> 
> Sí importa. ¿Quién lo hizo?  
> It does matter. Who did it?


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both walked out, shutting the door behind them and leaving Clay to wonder what the _fuck_ had just happened. 
> 
> Clay didn't let it bother him too long, or, more so, he didn't get the choice to be bothered by it, as within minutes, his eyes were growing heavy, and despite his better judgment, he slowly slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Chapter Two, only a few days later.  
> Hope you all enjoy.

**Tony**

Tony stared at Clay, face covered in different band-aids, and realized he had yet to fix up the back of his head, the one spot that probably needed it most. It could just be a little cut, but bleeding from the head was never good.

“I’m gonna take a look at the back of your head,” he told him. “Sit still.”

Clay nodded, shutting his eyes again, but his breathing picked up slightly as Tony walked behind him and moved some hair out of the way. “Relax, Clay,” Tony murmured. “I won’t hurt you. Just breathe.”

Clay seemed to get the idea and started to slow down his breathing. Tony grabbed another wipe, clearing up as much as he could, thankful that Clay’s hair wasn’t _too_ long. 

There was a small cut, less than an inch long, and it had finished bleeding. Tony let out a breath of relief and finished clearing away the blood. 

He debated on putting a bandaid on that too but figured it would be more than a pain to do so without getting his hair caught on it. He stood back, trying to decide what would be the easiest for both him and for Clay in the long run.

“I’m gonna glue your head,” Tony stated, walking back around and rummaging again through the first aid kit. 

“You’re gonna _what_?” Clay asked, eyes suddenly very big and very afraid. 

Tony held his hands up. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, pulling a small tube from the kit. “It’s medical glue. Easier than stitches or staples. I’ve used it a lot.”

Clay stared up at him, almost as if he was trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not, before nodding simply and closing his eyes.

Tony took that as a go ahead and returned to his spot behind Clay, again moving his hair out of the way. He carefully squeezed together the ends of one side of the cut, applying a little bit of glue there. He waited about a minute for that to dry a bit, and continued along the cut, squeezing together and applying a bit of glue at a time.

It didn’t look pretty, by any means. There were spots where the cut had started to bleed again and the glue had bubbled up a bit. That was okay, it didn’t affect how well the glue worked, but it definitely didn’t look pretty. Luckily, Clay’s hair would cover that wound up. 

“And we’re done,” Tony announced, fixing Clay’s hair a bit and walking around to the front of him again. 

He didn’t like how pale the boy looked. Yes, he always was a little pale, but now he looked white as a ghost. That, coupled with the blue and purple of his eye, worried Tony beyond belief. 

“You need to eat something,” he told Clay, who only shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of, “I’m not hungry.”

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t care if you _are_ hungry, you _need_ to eat something.”

Clay groaned, looking up at him with what Tony assumed was him trying to look angry, but it only looked a bit pitiful.

“I’m gonna run back into town,” Tony told him. “I’ll go by Monet’s and get you some juice and a sandwich. Do you want to go with me or do you want to stay here?”

Clay sighed. “I’ll go with,” he muttered, moving to stand up and promptly falling back into his chair, dizzy and disoriented. “I’ll stay here.”

Tony laughed again and nodded his head. “I’ll be right back,” he told him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder, before going to the door and walking out, closing it softly behind him.

Both Dominic and Eric looked up when Tony walked out, and they waved him over. He sighed but went anyways.

“Yes?” he asked as he neared them, arms folded over his chest.

Dominic cleared his throat. “Just tell us who did it, Tony.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s a kid at school. Clay is fine and he’s going to remain fine,” he told them. “He’ll feel like shit if you do anything to the other kid and that’s not what he needs, so just drop it.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the Tony who came to us when that one guy - Bryce, was it? - beat up on your boy? You demanded we go and do something, make him pay, but we didn’t get there in time before the police. What happened to that Tony?”

Tony sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’ll tell you later,” he muttered. “Okay? I’ll tell you later. After Clay has eaten and after I’ve gotten him home to his bed.”

Both his brothers stood silently for a minute, looking at each other. “Why don’t you just take him to our house?” Dominic asked. “So you can look after him and what not.”

Tony shook his head. “Dad would freak, you know how he is. He’s okay with him over for dinner, but I highly doubt he’d let him stay the night.”

“So why don’t you stay at his place?” Eric asked. “From what I’ve heard, his parents like you.”

Tony waved him off. “When that time comes, I'll figure it out. I need to get him some food,” he told them, turning away again, only to come face to face with his third and final brother, Joseph. 

“‘Sup, little bro,” his second eldest brother said, face not showing any emotion. “Heard your friend got beat up pretty badly. He okay?”

“Goddamn, do you two just see us walk in and alert the fucking family?” Tony snapped, throwing his hands up and glaring accusingly at Dominic and Eric. 

“Calm down,” Joseph told him, planting a firm hand on his shoulder. “They only told me. I told them to _stay out of it_. But I'm gonna assume they haven't done that.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “No. They haven't. When do they ever?”

“You do realize we're right here, right?” Dominic asked. 

Joseph laughed. “Calm down, Dom. Friendly family humor.”

Dominic mumbled under his breath, before pushing between them and walking back to the junker he had been working on, Eric following after him a few seconds later. 

“You said he needed food?” Joseph questioned. 

Tony nodded. “Yeah. He looks like shit. I think he needs some carbs. A juice. Sugar. You know, normal shit, I guess.”

Joseph chuckled. “I'll pay. I'm hungry myself,” he told him, beginning to lead him outside to his truck, ignoring Tony’s Mustang along the way. Tony didn't argue, just stared sadly at it as they drove away. 

…

**Clay**

 

Tony was standing in front of Clay, staring down at his handy work on his face. Clay watched his expression carefully, trying to gauge how bad his face looked by how his friend’s expressions changed. Tony’s face lit up with, maybe remembrance, and suddenly he was announcing, “I’m gonna take a look at the back of your head,” followed momentarily by, “Sit still.”

Clay gave him a small nod, closing his eyes once again, finding himself breathing quicker as Tony took his spot behind him, moving his hair out of the way of his wound. “Relax, Clay,” Tony was whispering. “I won’t hurt you. Just breathe.”

In reality, Clay knew his friend wouldn’t hurt him, he did know that, but even so, he was afraid. Not because of Tony, but because of whatever his wound on the back of his head looked like. But, nonetheless, he began taking deeper breaths, trying to calm down as Tony began wiping away the blood on the back of his head.

It took a couple minutes before Clay felt the cold of the wipe disappear, and he heard Tony let out a breath, giving Clay some hope that it was okay. 

There was a few minutes of silence from Tony’s end, he didn’t touch Clay’s head anymore, and Clay began to wonder what was wrong, or if he was done and just checking for any more wounds on him. 

“I’m gonna glue your head.”

And that was not what Clay was expecting. Yet, Tony said it, and then walked back in front of him and began looking through the first aid kit, as if he hadn’t just said one of the most absurd things Clay had ever heard. 

“You’re gonna _what_?” Clay finally managed to ask, looking up at Tony with wide eyes.

Tony held his hands up in surrender, appearing to try and calm Clay down. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking out a small tube of what looked like - at least to Clay - superglue. “It’s medical glue. Easier than stitches or staples,” okay, Clay had heard about that before. “I’ve used it a lot.”

Clay waited a moment, staring up at Tony, deciphering if the other boy really had used it often or if he was just trying to make him feel better. He figured Tony had no reason to lie to him, so he shut his eyes and nodded his consent.

He heard Tony walk back around behind him, felt him move his hair back out of the way, and then he felt pressure applied to the wound. He winced, grinding his teeth together, because, though he wouldn’t outright say it, that shit hurt. And it continued to hurt as Tony made his way down the cut, before finally, _finally_ , the pressure was gone.

Clay wondered what it looked like. If it looked like a low budget craft project gone wrong or if it looked decent. He figured it didn’t matter though, as Tony was readjusting his hair behind him and stating, “And we’re done.”

Tony came back to the front of Clay again, and Clay found himself wondering about the look he was getting from the older boy. The look of worry and fear. 

“You need to eat something,” Tony stated, earning only a shake of the head from Clay as he answered, “I’m not hungry.”

Tony laughed at him, and Clay watched as he also shook his head. “I don’t care if you _are_ hungry,” he began. “You _need_ to eat something.”

Clay groaned, trying his best to glare at Tony despite how much it hurt the wounds on his face, but he knew Tony was right, not that he would tell him.

“I’m gonna run back into town,” Tony announced, looking down at him. “I’ll go by Monet’s and get you some juice and a sandwich,” Clay wouldn’t admit that he was a little hungry. “Do you want to go with me or do you want to stay here?”

And Clay didn’t want to stay here, so he sighed and answered, “I’ll go with,” in a pitiful voice, attempting to stand up. It took less than a second for his head to begin spinning, for his body to feel disoriented. “I’ll stay here.”

Tony was laughing again, and Clay realized he liked how he laughed. “I’ll be right back,” his friend was saying. And then Tony was squeezing his shoulder, not tightly, before letting go and walking out the door, closing his gently behind him.

Without Tony to talk to, Clay found that the little office was incredibly lonely. Silence creeping in slowly and thickly. 

Clay looked around the room, wondering how odd it would look if he were to just lay down on the desk and take a nap. He could use his hoodie for a pillow. 

But he didn’t know if he could even make it onto the desk to do so and decided instead that he would just stay where he was, regardless of how uncomfortable the chair he was sitting in was. 

He could vaguely hear voices out on the floor of the shop, could hear Tony raise his voice every so often. He wondered what was being said, but he knew Tony wouldn’t tell him the whole truth, even if he asked with his best puppy dog eyes and a sad smile. 

A few minutes later he heard a truck start up - at least it sounded like a truck, what with his minimal knowledge of anything mechanical.

The sound disappeared after a few seconds, and again Clay sat there in silence.

It took less than a minute for him to decide that he was tired. Not sleepy tired, but exhausted. His whole body felt sore, his mind was drained, he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep for the next eight years or more. 

So he decided that, yes, the desk looked really very comfortable, and yes, he was going to take a nap on it. At least until Tony came back.

Or that’s what he assumed he would do.

Instead, as he stood up, the dizzy feeling came back, only this time, he was unable to find the chair, and went crashing forward instead, lucking missing anything along the way that could have hurt him, though his ego was massively damaged as he found himself lying on the floor. 

“¿ _Qué pasó_? What happened?” the voice came right behind the sound of the door flying open.

Clay turned his head as much as he could, eyes slightly blurry as he looked up at Eric and Dominic, both wearing similar worried looks on their faces. 

“I…. fell?” he didn’t mean to make it sound like a question, but it came out like that anyways. 

The two Padilla brothers continued to stare down at him, before they began laughing, moving to sit down beside him. “You want to sit up?” Dominic questioned.

Clay shook his head. “I don’t want to move,” he mumbled, though he rolled onto his back.

Eric laughed, moving to sit near Clay’s head, lifting it up and sitting it on his lap. 

Clay furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at him, earning only a dopey smile in return. “Your face is fucked, dude,” he told him.

Clay coughed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. It is,” he mumbled.

“We have a question for you,” Dominic said suddenly, and Clay lifted his head slightly to look at him.

…

**Tony**

Joseph was quiet through the car ride. He had turned on the music only a few minutes after they had left the shop, and since then, he hadn’t said another word. 

It didn’t really surprise Tony, he was used to Joseph being the quiet Padilla brother. Whereas Eric and Dominic wanted to be in everyone’s business, Joseph didn’t care. If he found out, he found out, but he didn’t actively go digging into someone else’s business. That is unless he thought that it would help that person. But even then, he didn’t push answers out of someone.

“Why are you protecting the kid who did it?” Joseph asked, breaking the silence. 

Tony had been looking out the window but turned his head to look at his brother. 

Joseph wasn’t the oldest, he was two years younger than Dominic, but he had always acted the oldest, even throughout Tony’s childhood. 

“I’m not protecting him,” Tony mumbled, fidgeting a bit in his seat. 

Joseph hummed, slowing down at a stop light. “By not telling anyone who did it, you’re inadvertently protecting that person.”

Tony thought that over for a minute, realizing that his brother did have a point. “Clay wouldn’t want you guys to go after the other guy,” he murmured. “He has enough on his plate. You know, the trial and all that. Plus his mom has been on edge since the beginning of all this. If she finds out,” he shook his head, sighing softly. 

The light turned green and Joseph eased onto the gas. “How’s your boyfriend,” he slid into a new subject like it was nothing, like it was as easy as counting to three.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” Tony mumbled and he heard his brother cough. “What?”

Joseph pulled into a parking spot out front of Monet’s. “What happened there?” he asked. “I thought you two were close?”

Tony bit his lip. “Well, since the whole thing with Hannah and since the trial,” he trailed off. “I was spending a lot of time making sure Clay was okay. Brad got jealous and just,” he shrugged. 

Joseph was silent for a few seconds, a pensive look on his face. 

“Did he have a good reason to be jealous?” he finally asked, looking over at Tony. 

Tony swallowed, listening to the music that was filling the cab of the truck. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “It’s not like… it’s not like I _dislike_ Clay, but… he’s very…” he huffed.

“Straight?” Joseph guessed, laughing a bit to himself. 

“Why are you laughing?” Tony asked, almost defensively. 

Joseph coughed, turning off the radio. “I’m not so sure.”

“Not so sure about what?” Tony asked, annoyance obvious in his voice.

Joseph sighed. “That he’s straight. Bi, maybe, but not straight. No way.”

Tony fell silent, thinking over what his brother had said before he shook his head. “He was in love with Hannah. That doesn’t change.”

“No,” Joseph agreed. “That doesn’t change. But she’s gone. And he knows that. He’ll always love her, but he’ll fall in love again.”

“Not with me,” Tony snapped, opening the car door and getting out, leaving Joseph in the cab. 

Tony walked into Monet’s with a frown on his face, spotting Skye behind the counter. She gave him the exact same look he gave her. “Why so pissy?” she asked.

“I need an orange juice and two sandwiches to go,” Tony said simply.

Skye wrote down the order and Tony watched as she wrote down his order, adding a black coffee to the end of it. “How’s Clay?” she asked. 

“He’s fine,” Tony muttered. “Banged up, but fine.”

Skye nodded. “Brad came in here,” she told him. “Talking shit on you. I kicked him out,” she shrugged, going to make his order. 

Tony hummed, going to sit down at a table near where Skye was, noting that there was only one other customer. 

“Who’s in the truck?” Skye questioned, sitting the two drinks on the counter.

Tony cast a glance out to the truck, noticing that he brother was on the phone now, arguing a bit with whoever was on the other line. 

“My brother, Joseph,” he murmured. 

Skye hummed, finishing up the sandwiches and placing them beside the drink, watching Tony stand up and walk over to them. “Why’s he look so angry?” She questioned. 

Tony shrugged, grabbing everything and putting some money on the counter. “Keep the change,” he told her, walking back towards the front door. 

“Tell Clay to get better!” She shouted behind him. “Or I'll kick his ass too!”

…

**Clay**

Clay swallowed thickly, looking up at Eric, suddenly afraid of what they were going to ask. 

“What is it?” He questioned. 

Eric looked over at Dominic, who cleared his throat. “Do you have a crush on our brother?” He asked. 

Eric coughed. “Jesus Christ, Dom. No subtlety. Nothing. Just right out with it.”

Dominic shrugged. “Better than dancing around the question,” he grumbled. “So?”

He was looking at Clay again, who suddenly felt very light headed. “I don't- I-”

“I see,” Eric hummed. “Haven't come to terms with it. That's okay. For what it's worth, Tony definitely likes you as more than a friend, but don't tell him we told you.”

Clay continued staring up at him but nodded slightly. “Okay,” he whispered. 

“Here,” Dominic said suddenly, moving to stand up. He got into a cabinet and pulled out two things. A pillow and a blanket. “We have to get back to work, but you can lay there on the floor still. It gets kind of chilly down there so,” he shrugged. 

Eric stood up, replacing his lap with the pillow. “There you are, little dude,” he told him, patting his head as Dominic covered Clay with the blanket. “Have a nice nap.”

They both walked out, shutting the door behind them and leaving Clay to wonder what the fuck had just happened. 

Clay didn't let it bother him too long, or, more so, he didn't get the choice to be bothered by it, as within minutes, his eyes were growing heavy, and despite his better judgment, he slowly slipped into sleep. 

…

**Tony**

When Tony got back into the truck, Joseph was already off the phone, and he pulled out of the parking spot seconds after Tony shut the door. 

“Who were you talking to?” Tony asked.

Joseph shrugged, pulling into another parking lot, this one to a small convenience store. “An upset customer.”

Tony nodded, not asking anymore as his brother got out and walked inside. 

They’d already been gone nearly half an hour, and Tony was becoming increasingly worried about if Clay was okay or not, though he assumed his brothers would at least call him if something went wrong. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

And he was still worrying when Joseph got back into the car, and his brother easily picked up on it. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Tony shook his head, holding tightly now to the food and drinks. “Your boy is still okay,” Joseph assured him.

Tony nodded, looking out the window as they began driving again. 

The drive back was quicker than the drive into town, Joseph seemed to pick up speed the more they drove until finally, they were pulling back up into the driveway. 

Tony got out before Joseph had even stopped completely, holding what he had bought to his chest. He walked through the main floor of the shop, ignoring the way Eric and Dominic watched him as he went. 

He opened the door to the office, not looking in before he was speaking. “Hey, I got-” he cut himself off, noticing that Clay was no longer in the chair he had left him in and instead was laying on the floor, a pillow under his head and a blanket covering him. 

Tony sighed softly, moving carefully to the desk, sure to not touch Clay, and sat down in the seat. He figured he might as well eat his own food and drink his coffee before it got cold. Besides, with the way he looked, Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Clay slept for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on Tumblr  
> https://underaspark.tumblr.com  
> Send me messages, say hi, send me dumb history facts (I love dumb history facts)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My mom’s going to kill me,” Clay’s whispering voice broke the general silence that had filled the car. “She’s going to take one look at my face and kill me.”
> 
> Tony laughed gently, putting the car in park and looking over at the beaten up face of his best friend. “Do you want me to walk up with you?” he asked him, more than a little bit hopeful that he would say yes. “Maybe having another person there will help lessen the blow?” he finished, hoping that would make Clay more interested in saying yes. 
> 
> Tony watched Clay bite at his lip, smiling at the small, “Yeah,” that left Clay’s lips with honesty. “Yeah, please. I think that would be a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking soooooo long in posting a new chapter.  
> I've been so busy and I went through a lot of shit these past few months, and I just needed time to work on myself and my life before I could engulf myself in any of my stories, this story especially.  
> I hold my stories close to my heart, so it's hard for me to take this long away from them, but I appreciate you all waiting on me and allowing me to take this time to myself.  
> Without further ado, I give you chapter three.

_**Clay** _

Clay was being pulled from his nap without his consent, sounds dragging him to consciousness. 

He blinked slowly, trying and failing to get adjusted to the light, his head pounding, a migraine making itself known. 

He opened one eye, barely a slit, and found himself looking directly into the light of the office, the memory of what had happened that day finding its way back into his head. He groaned, closing his eyes again. 

“Clay?” Tony’s voice washed over him, concern evident in his tone. “Are you okay?”

Clay shook his head, silently refusing to open his eyes, wanting to keep himself from the torment of the lights above him. “I think I’m dying.”

And Tony, Tony had the audacity to laugh at him. “You aren’t dying, Clay.”

Clay forced his eyes open, glaring as much as he could at his friend. “You don’t know how I feel right now. You don’t know if I’m dying or not,” he grumbled. 

Tony was laughing again, moving to lean over a bit in his chair. “You want some aspirin?” he questioned.

Clay nodded, forcing himself into a sitting position despite the protest his body was putting up. “How long was I asleep?” he questioned, taking the aspirin he was being handed along with a water bottle and swallowing it down.

“Well, I’ve been back for about half an hour,” Tony was saying, looking at the clock on his phone. “I don’t know how long you were asleep before I got here though.”

Clay mumbled under his breath, rubbing his head. “What time is it?” he asked, unsure at the moment where his phone was. 

“A little after five,” Tony told him. “I got you a sandwich. And some juice. If you’re feeling up to it.”

Clay felt his stomach rumble at the thought of food and reached his hands out for it, happy when Tony handed him a bottle and a wrapped up sandwich. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

They fell into a relative silence after that, Clay eating his sandwich while Tony messed around on his phone, at least that’s what Clay suspected he was doing. 

It was as Clay finished up his sandwich when his phone chimed, and he looked around until he found it, seeing a text from his mother asking where he was. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Tony,” he said, watching his friend look up at him. “Do you mind taking me back to my place? Mom’s wondering where I am.”

Tony stood up, nodding his head. “I figured she’d be asking that soon,” he said with a chuckle. “Think you can stand up on your own?”

Clay nodded, pushing himself up carefully, moving slowly until he was in a standing position, proud of himself when he made it completely up. He looked up at Tony, who was smiling at him before tilting his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

… 

_**Tony** _

Tony had finished his food over 45 minutes before he heard a small noise coming from Clay’s figure on the floor. He leaned back in his chair, watching as his friend blinked heavily, noting the grimace that filled his face. 

One eye opened, if you could even call it open, before Clay was groaning, squeezing his eyes shut again. Tony pushed himself up a bit, worried now. “Clay?” He asked. “Are you okay?”

Clay was shaking his head, eyes still shut tightly before speaking in a somewhat strained voice. “I think I’m dying.”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, but he was quick to cover his mouth up and stop the laughter. “You aren’t dying, Clay,” he tried to assure him. 

Clay opened his eyes, obviously trying to glare at Tony, though it only made him want to laugh some more. “You don’t know how I feel right now. You don’t know if I’m dying or not.”

Tony laughed again, knowing exactly how Clay felt, because sometimes he’d get into fights so bad he’d look just like Clay. “You want some aspirin?” He already knew the answer before Clay even nodded, and he was already opening a bottle and dumping a couple pills into his hand, grabbing a water bottle as well and handing them both to Clay as he asked, “How long was I asleep?” Taking the medicine right after. 

Tony looked down at his phone, calculating how long he’d been back. “Well,” he murmured. “I’ve been back for about half an hour,” he told him. “I don’t know how long you were asleep before I got here though,” he finished. 

Tony heard Clay mumbled something under his breath, sounding like gibberish, before rubbing his head. “What time is it?” he questioned, glancing around the room.

“A little after five,” Tony said. “I got you a sandwich. And some juice. If you’re feeling up to it.”

Tony could hear Clay’s stomach rumble from where he was and Tony covered up a laugh as Clay reached out for the food, which he gave to him easily, smiling when the other boy murmured a soft, “Thank you.”

Silence filled the room after that, aside from the sounds of Clay eating his sandwich. Tony found himself instead looking over his phone. There were a few posts about Clay and Montgomery's fight, a few calling Clay a coward for throwing the first punch, a few calling out Tony for taking Clay away from the fight, and the occasional few about Hannah, still a common topic on social media, especially with Bryce’s trial. He grit his teeth, hoping Clay wouldn’t check social media that night. 

A ding sounded as Clay finished the last few bites of his sandwich and Tony watched as he looked around from his phone, picking it up when he found it. Whatever was on the screen caused Clay to groan and pinch at the bridge of his nose, but Tony looked back down at his phone before Clay could find him looking at him. 

“Hey, Tony,” his friend said, and Tony looked up slowly at him. “Do you mind taking me back to my place? Mom’s wondering where I am.”

Tony stood up, nodding. “I figured she’d be asking that soon,” he added a small chuckled. “Think you can stand up on your own?”

Clay was nodding, slowly pushing himself up, and Tony found himself poised, ready in case he fell, but he made it up the whole way, a proud look on his face. Tony nodded towards the door of the office with a small smile. “Let’s go.”

…

_**Clay** _

Clay wasn’t exactly excited about getting home to his parents. He’d been anxious the entire car ride there, he hadn’t even listened to Tony and his brothers banter back and forth on their way out of the shop.

“My mom’s going to kill me,” he whispered as they pulled up to the house. “She’s going to take one look at my face and kill me.”

Tony laughed, parking the car and looking over at Clay. “Do you want me to walk up with you?” he asked. “Maybe having another person there will help lessen the blow?” he suggested. 

Clay bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said honestly. “Yeah, please.I think that would be a good idea.”

Tony nodded, shutting off the car and climbing out, standing beside it. Clay did the same, walking around the car and joining Tony, leading him towards the front door, opening it slowly. “Mom?” he called. “I’m home. Tony’s with me.”

His mom popped around the corner, a smile on her face, until she saw Clay’s face. “What happened?” her voice was worried and she ran over to him, grabbing his face in her hands. 

Clay winced slightly, batting his mom away. “I’m fine, mom,” he mumbled. “Really. I… I fell off my bike.” It was then that he realized he hadn’t ridden his bike to school today. 

His mom didn’t seem to realize that though, and sighed. “I told you to wear your helmet,” she said somewhat airily.

Clay saw Tony glance over at him, obviously waiting for him to get called out on the lie, but he didn’t mention anything. 

Lainie looked over at Tony now, smiling at him. “Thank you for bringing him home,” she told him. “And for patching him up. Would you like to stay for dinner, maybe?” she asked. “Since it’s a Friday, you can stay for a bit after.”

Clay knew Tony would agree, even before the, “Of course, Mrs. Jensen. I’d love to,” left his friend’s mouth.

And Clay’s mom’s face lit up, obviously happy that there would potentially be normal conversation tonight, away from the tense talk that had been plaguing the family since his mom had taken up the case and especially since Bryce’s trial had begun. “Wonderful!” Lainie announced. “Clay, why don’t you go upstairs and get into some different clothes. Something less....” she trailed off, face contorting a bit. “Less bloody.”

Clay nodded, looking down at his outfit, his own nose turning up at it. “Tony, you want to come upstairs?” he asked.

Before Tony could answer, though, Lainie was interjecting. “Actually, I need some help setting up the table. Your dad is working in his office right now, how about Tony helps me while you change?”

Clay looked over at Tony, who didn’t look too excited, but who nodded anyways. “Of course,” he said. “I’d love to.”

Lainie grinned, clapping her hands a bit. “Perfect,” she said. “Clay, go on and get changed. Food will be ready on the table when you get done.”

Clay nodded once, giving Tony a bit of a sympathetic smile before he walked to the stairs and up to his room. 

He grabbed a different, clean, pair of jeans, edging his own clothes off. His torso was pretty bruised already from the fight, and he grunted as he looked down at it. 

He shook his head, pulling on the new pair of jeans and going to his dresser, finding a grey t-shirt and pulling that on as well. He debated whether or not he needed a pair of shoes, and decided it would be better for dinner if he had shoes on, so he pulled on the same pair he had been wearing. 

He slipped back out of his room, listening for a few seconds at the top of stairs, hearing a soft, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Jensen,” from Tony. “Clay’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

Clay frowned, wondering what his mom was getting out of Tony. He sighed, shaking his head and going to the bathroom, groaning when he saw himself in the mirror. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. “I look like shit.”

He combed his hair a bit, wiping away some leftover blood from his hairline with water. He also added some cologne as an afterthought, unsure why he had done it when it was over. 

He shrugged, though, leaving the bathroom and walking down the stairs and going back to the kitchen, watching his mom look up from where she was sitting at the table, Tony a few seats away and his dad across from his mom. “Nice face, kid,” his dad said, a grin on his face. 

Tony didn’t seem too uncomfortable, so Clay decided his mom hadn’t been too weird to him. “Bikes, man,” he mumbled, taking a seat across from Tony. “Food looks great, mom,” he added, watching as she smiled and began passing the different foods around to everyone, listening as everyone lapsed into silence, the only sounds being of them eating. 

…

_**Tony**_

Tony could feel the anxiety flooding off of Clay as he pulled up in front of his friend’s house, had been able to notice it the entire way there even as they were leaving the shop, glad he had ignored his brother’s banter back and forth about Clay and him.

“My mom’s going to kill me,” Clay’s whispering voice broke the general silence that had filled the car. “She’s going to take one look at my face and kill me.”

Tony laughed gently, putting the car in park and looking over at the beaten up face of his best friend. “Do you want me to walk up with you?” he asked him, more than a little bit hopeful that he would say yes. “Maybe having another person there will help lessen the blow?” he finished, hoping that would make Clay more interested in saying yes. 

Tony watched Clay bite at his lip, smiling at the small, “Yeah,” that left Clay’s lips with honesty. “Yeah, please. I think that would be a good idea.”

Tony nodded in agreement, quickly shutting off his car and getting out, stretching a bit as he waited for Clay to follow suit. When he saw his friend standing next to him, he following his gesture to the house, keeping close behind him, but not too close. “Mom?” Clay called out into the quiet house. “I’m home. Tony’s with me,” he could tell that he added the last part as a middle ground, making sure his mom didn’t come storming out.

But when Lainie Jensen appeared around the corner, there was a smile on his face. A smile that lasted less than a second when she saw her son’s beaten up face. “What happened?” her voice was the exact voice you’d hear in movies when something bad happened. That parental voice that came out when something was wrong. And Lainie ran over, taking Clay’s face in her hands. 

Tony felt like he shouldn’t be there in that second, like this was something Clay and his mom should be doing alone. 

“I’m fine,” Clay was saying, hands batting at his mom. “Really. I… I fell off my bike.”

Tony frowned a bit, noticing the lie immediately, and wondering if Clay had even ridden his bike that day, seeing as it wasn’t there during the fight. 

But his mom breezed right past it, obviously used to that excuse. “I told you to wear your helmet,” her voice was almost annoyed, but not angry. 

Tony looked at Clay, wondering what his friend would say to that, but not saying anything about the lie.

Clay’s mom looked over at him now, a practiced smile on her face. “Thank you for bringing him home,” she was saying, sounding genuine. “And for patching him up,” if that’s what you wanted to call it. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” the question caught him somewhat off guard, but he wasn’t surprised by it. “Since it’s a Friday, you can stay for a bit after.”

And Tony wasn’t going to turn down the offer, feeling like it would be somewhat rude to do so, and agreed. “Of course, Mrs. Jensen,” he said politely. “I’d love to.”

Tony watched as Lainie’s face seemed to light up when he agreed, almost confused by it, but he assumed it had something to do with the fact that they’d have something to talk about aside from the current events, or at least he hoped they wouldn’t be talking about that.

“Wonderful!” Lainie exclaimed. “Clay, why don’t you go upstairs and get into some different clothes. Something less…” she trailed off and her eyes traveled slowly over Clay’s dirtied outfit. “Less bloody.”

Clay was nodding, his own eyes grazing his outfit, looking grossed out. “Tony,” he said. “You want to come upstairs?”

Tony was about to agree with him but was cut off by Clay’s mom before he could begin. “Actually,” she said. “I need some help setting up the table. Your dad is working in his office right now, how about Tony helps me while you change.”

Tony couldn’t help but look a bit unenthused, but nodded, saying the same thing as before. “Of course. I’d love to.”

Lainie grinned, obviously oblivious to the fact that Tony wasn’t excited, and Tony was happy that she had noticed as she clapped her hands together. “Perfect. Clay, go on and get changed. Food will be on the table when you get done.”

Clay nodded once and watched his friend give him a small smile, before he turned and disappeared up the stairs. 

It was silent until the door to Clay’s room shut. “He’s lying,” Lainie said, her face no longer holding the smile but instead keeping a knowing motherly look. “I can tell when he’s lying. He’s never been too good about it.”

Tony couldn’t help but agree. “He really isn’t good at it,” he murmured. “Why didn’t you call him on it?” he asked.

Lainie hummed, setting out some plates and handing silverware to Tony, who began placing them around the table. “I figure, if he wants to tell me, he will. Recently I’ve been trying not to push him. I know he’s been through so much. I just worry a bit for him. You’ll tell me if… if I need to worry, right?”

Tony walked over to her, taking her hand in what he hoped was soothing. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Jensen,” he told her. “Clay’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And Lainie had a look on her face of such thankfulness, that Tony realized that she was truly worried about the state of her son. And why wouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t she? Especially with all that her son had been through. 

Another door shut upstairs and Lainie moved from him to start setting up the food, and Tony followed suit. A few seconds later, Matt Jensen walked in. “Hey, Tony,” he said, taking his spot at the head of the table, Lainie following along and sitting at the other end. Tony reached over to shake his hand, sitting on the side, a seat between each of Clay’s parents and him, as Clay walked back down. 

Tony could smell Clay’s cologne before he even reached the table, and wondered why he had put it on, what was the point? But he didn’t ask, didn’t feel like he needed to. 

“Nice face, kid,” Matt said, smiling at his son. Clay didn’t really acknowledge the comment, aside from mumbling, “Bikes, man,” and sat down across from Tony. “Food looks great, mom,” and that smile came back to Lainie’s face as they fell into silence over the dinner.

…

_**Clay** _

Luckily, dinner wasn’t too long of an affair, especially since he and Tony had already eaten some food, so neither of them took much.

Everyone stayed at the table until the meal was over, and Matt excused himself first, leaving to go back to his work.

Clay offered to help his mom with the dishes, but she shooed him away, sending him and Tony upstairs. 

Once the door was shut behind Tony, Clay let out a breath of relief. “Sorry about that,” he said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. 

Tony was frowning a bit at him. “Sorry about what?” he asked, sounding confused. 

“About dinner,” Clay said. “And about whatever weird shit my mom probably said while I was changing.”

Tony laughed, shaking his head and placing himself on the desk chair. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t actually that bad. She’s just worried for you, is all. I told her there was no reason for her to be.”

Clay was appreciative for that. “Thank you, then,” he told him. “For telling her she didn’t need to be worried.”

“She doesn’t need to be, right?” Tony asked, and Clay frowned. 

“Why would she need to be?” he asked his friend. “I mean, it’s not like I actively look for places to get in trouble or to get in fights at. I promise.”

Tony nodded, not seeming entirely convinced, but unable to say anything else before his phone buzzed. “Sorry, Clay,” he said, standing up. “I’ve got to go pick up Maria. She’s apparently at the movie theater without a ride. I don’t even want to find out who she went with that left her.”

Clay stood up as well, leading him back out of the house and to his car. “Thanks, again,” he told him. “For fixing me up today. Thank you.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Clay,” he told him. “Just don’t do anything else stupid. And if you need anything, remember, I’m a text away.”

Clay nodded again, giving him a smile. “I’ll remember that.”

Neither one of them said anything else before Tony climbed into his car and started it up, waving once and driving away. 

…

_**Tony** _

Dinner was a quick affair, neither Tony nor Clay very hungry since they had already eaten some food. Lainie didn’t seem too upset about them not eating her food, and even waved Clay off when he offered to help clean up, sending them both away. 

They went up to Clay’s room, Tony the last one in and the one to close the door. At the sound of the door closing, he also heard Clay breath out. “Sorry about that,” he told him, dropping himself down on the edge of his bed. 

Tony, a bit confused, frowned at his friend. “Sorry about what?”

“About dinner,” Clay said, voice sounding like it should have been obvious. “And about whatever weird shit my mom probably said while I was changing.”

Tony shook his head slightly, laughing and sitting down in the desk chair. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t actually that bad. She’s just worried for you, is all. I told her there was no reason for her to be.”

Clay seemed to like that answer. “Thank you, then,” he stated. “For telling her she didn’t need to be worried.”

Tony couldn’t help it, the question slipping out before he could stop it. “She doesn’t need to be, right?” 

Clay’s head cocked to the side. “Why should she need to be?” he questioned. “I mean, it’s not like I actively look for places to get in trouble or get in fights at, I promise.”

Tony nodded, not convinced but not willing to argue it, thankful for his phone buzzing, giving him a reason not to say anything else. It was a text from his sister, asking for a ride. “Sorry, Clay,” he grumbled, standing up from his spot. “I’ve got to go pick up Maria. She’s apparently at the movie theater without a ride. I don’t even want to find out who she went with that left her,” he didn’t want to know, because he knew he’d go after whoever it was for ditching his little sister. 

Clay stood up also, stepping in front of Tony and leading him from the house, going all the way out to his car. “Thanks, again,” he said. “For fixing me up today. Thank you.”

Tony shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “Don’t worry about it, Clay,” he said simply. “Just don’t do anything else stupid. And if you need anything, remember, I’m a text away.”

Clay gave him one more nod and a smile. “I’ll remember that.”

That was the last of what they both said and Tony got in his car, giving one last wave before he drove off. 

…

_**Clay** _

After Tony left, Clay found himself back in his room, alone now with his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about his feelings for his best friend, afraid to come to terms with what his brothers had said. He definitely felt _something,_ , but he wasn’t sure what it was. He wasn’t sure about anything that he felt since Hannah died. 

He didn’t want to think about it. So he decided he wasn’t going to. And instead, he got on his phone, deciding to scroll through his newsfeed.

Things popped out immediately.

**Jensen threw the first punch.**

**Fucking coward who ran off with his boyfriend.**

**If his boyfriend didn’t save him, Monty would’ve killed him.**

**Serves him right. The basketball team isn’t the same without Bryce.**

**He probably made up that entire rape story.**

**He definitely made it up.**

**Hannah made it up, killed herself for attention, and then Jensen felt like he needed to redeem her.**

**She was a slut, she got around with too many guys.**

**It’s not rape if you like it. And she definitely liked it.**

Clay all but threw his phone across the room, unaware until then that tears had gathered in his eyes, falling down his cheeks slowly. 

“Clay?” he heard his mom call up the stairs. “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

Clay groaned. “Yeah, mom,” he shouted. “I accidentally knocked something off my desk.”

There wasn’t another question, so Clay laid down on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He didn’t know how long he’d been like that, until his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep.

… 

The dreams had been the same since Hannah had died. He always saw her. Saw her bloody. Saw her scared.

They had gotten worse after the tapes. After Bryce’s confession.

They just kept getting worse. 

Hannah had blood pouring down her wrists, her face contorted in pain and fear. Clay hated that look.

He ran towards her, but the more he ran, the farther she got from him, and he knew he couldn’t reach her. 

And then she was collapsing, the last breaths of air leaving her lungs.

…

Clay shot up in his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Just a dream,” he whispered to himself. “Just a dream.”

He looked over at the clock beside his bed, the numbers flashing 1:48 AM at him.

He groaned, climbing out of his bed, realizing he was uncomfortable in his jeans, so he walked to his dresser, changing into sweats.

He looked around his room, finding his phone and walking out of his door, unsure of where he was going to, but knowing he needed out of his house as he snuck down the stairs and out the front door, shivering in the nighttime air. 

He grabbed his bike, climbing on and starting to drive, thoughts whirling around his head. Thoughts about Hannah, thoughts about Tony. Everything was converging, and his chest felt constricted.

He didn’t have set destination but found himself at the cemetery. He grit his teeth, walking the rest of the way to Hannah’s grave, now with a gravestone. 

He fell to his knees in front of it, and before he knew it, he was crying. Thick, heavy tears falling down his face. “I’m so sorry, Hannah,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I let you down. I’m so sorry.”

…

_**Tony** _

It was just after three in the morning when Tony was awoken by a chime from his phone.

He growled a bit, rolling over and grabbing it, fully intent on shutting the sound off, before he realized that the name flashing on the screen was Clay’s.

He frowned, more awake now as he opened the text. 

**I’m sorry for waking you. But I need you. Please. It’s urgent.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me comments and kudos if you feel up to it, they're my life source.  
> (JK, but seriously.)
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr at  
> https://underaspark.tumblr.com
> 
> Also like I've said before, you should send me dumb history facts, cause I like those.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You wouldn’t even be able to tell that she’s here,” he whispered. “It’s just a stone. A stone surrounded by grass… but she’s right here. She’s stuck here,” his voice caught and he shook his head. “She doesn’t belong here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted another one, I do not apologize for what I did to get you another one. 
> 
>  
> 
> ....
> 
>  
> 
> Okay so I'm a little sorry.

**Tony**

Tony was already out in his car before he realized that he didn’t know where Clay was. 

He pulled his phone out again. 

**Where are you?**

He hit send, starting his car and driving, unknown the destination until his phone beeped again. 

**I’m at the cemetery.**

Tony sighed, taking a deep breath and starting towards the cemetery, the radio shut off, no tapes playing. 

He reached the cemetery no more than fifteen minutes later, pulling up and parking the car a distance away from where he knew Hannah was buried, because he knew that was the only place Clay would be. 

He shut the car off, climbing out and grabbing his jacket, only holding it, noting that it was a warmer night. 

He began his walk towards Hannah’s grave, seeing Clay sitting in front of the gravestone. His friend was staring blankly at it, silent tears falling down his face. It physically pained Tony to see him in such a state. 

“Clay?” Tony asked quietly, watching him closely, watching him continue to stare at the weathered stone, not even acknowledging that Tony was there. “Clay.”

This time Clay glanced over at him, but only slightly, not moving his head, only his eyes. “You wouldn’t even be able to tell that she’s here,” he whispered. “It’s just a stone. A stone surrounded by grass… but she’s right here. She’s stuck here,” his voice caught and he shook his head. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Tony knelt next to his friend, placing a firm hand on his back. It was warm, but Clay was shivering. 

“You’re right,” Tony murmured. “She doesn’t belong here. And neither do you. Not now. Not late at night. Clay… you need to go home.”

Finally, Clay looked up at him, and Tony realized that he wasn’t just sad, he was sick. His face was pale and clammy, his eyes bloodshot. 

“Are you alright?” Tony asked quietly. 

Clay turned back to the stone, silently refusing to answer his question. 

Tony looked him over, noting what looked like vomit on the collar of his shirt, seeing that Clay seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. His eyes reached Clay’s hand, noting him clutching something in it. 

A bottle. 

“Clay,” Tony whispered, reaching down to grab it, watching as Clay’s hand tried to squeeze tighter before giving up, knowing he wasn’t going to win. 

Tony took it from him, realizing it was an empty orange pill bottle, Clay’s name written on it, and the word _Duloxetine_ written below it. Tony slowly read the fill date, his heart hammering as he realized it was only two days ago. 

Tony swallowed thickly. “Clay.. where are the rest of your pills?” he asked slowly. 

Clay shook his head, bringing the hand that had been holding the bottle up to his head, massaging his temples, though his hand was shaking. 

“We have to get you to the hospital, Clay,” Tony said sternly, starting to stand, pulling Clay up with him, meeting no restraint from him. He wrapped his jacket over his shoulders, leading him slowly to the car, and for the second time in 24 hours, sat him in the passenger seat, carefully shutting the door, hearing his head hit the window with an audible _thud_.

Tony had never driven so fast in his entire life. 

…

**Clay**

Drifting. He was drifting.

And he found that he didn’t care.

…

**Tony**

His tires screeched as he skidded into the parking lot of the ER.

Tony shut off the car, jumping out and running around to the passenger side, throwing open the door and catching Clay - now passed out - before he came tumbling out of the car. 

He was practically dragging Clay through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital, startling the nurse behind the front desk. “Help,” he said, a begging tone in his voice. “Please help. I think… I think he took all these.” He sat the bottle on the desk, holding his friend up. 

The nurse pressed a button and within seconds a mob of doctors and nurses, all in different colored scrubs, came running out, putting Clay on a stretcher and rolling his through more doors. 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight that Tony realized he had begun crying. 

“Kid?” the nurse at the front desk spoke up after a few completely silent moments. “Is there someone we can call for you? A parent?”

Tony shook his head, walking back through the front doors in silence. 

His hands shook as he pulled out his phone, dialing slowly.

Two rings before a groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Jensen,” his voice broke. “Something happened. I need… I need you to come to the hospital.”

There was a brief pause, the sound of blankets being thrown off. “Tony? Tony, what happened?” Lainie Jensen’s voice was confused, concerned, tired. 

“It’s Clay,” Tony whispered. “Please. Please, you just need to get here,” he was sobbing again, hearing Lainie wake Matt urgently. 

Tony hung up the phone, yelling and throwing it across the parking lot, hearing it shatter. He slid down a wall, pulling his knees to his chest and continuing to cry, punching his hands into the concrete walkway below him. 

…

Tony wasn’t sure how long it took before the Jensen’s car was pulling into the lot, though it felt like forever. Lainie ran out of the car, seeming to not even see Tony before making it inside, already asking for her son.

Matt, however, did see Tony against the wall, silent now, no more tears to fall. “What happened?” he asked quietly, walking to him and kneeling in front of him. “What happened, Tony?”

Silence filled the night as Tony tried to find his voice again. “He,” his voice was scratchy. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “He just texted me and I… I found him. He.. he had a pill bottle. It was empty.”

Matt’s head dropped a little, and he squeezed Tony’s knee. “Do you want me to call your parents?” he asked softly. “Maybe one of your brothers?”

Tony swallowed thickly, for a second thinking that he should say no. None of his family should see him like this, crying on the ground. “Can you call my sister?” he asked quietly. 

Matt nodded, pulling out his phone. “What’s her number?”

Tony told him slowly, almost thinking he’d get it wrong somehow. 

… 

By time another car pulled into the parking lot, Matt had gone inside to join his wife, leaving Tony once again alone. 

He looked up in time to see his sister barreling towards him, Joseph trailing behind her. 

Tony sighed, realizing he should have known someone would have to drive her, she was only 15 after all. 

She came to a stop in front of him, her head cocked to the side. “Tony?” she asked. “ _Qué te sucedió_?” She lifted his face gently with her hands, wiping a stray tear away from his cheek, obviously confused. “What happened, _hermano_? Why are you here?”

Joseph cleared his throat, both Tony and his sister looking up at him. “Where’s Clay?” he asked quietly. 

Tony choked, looking towards the doors. 

“Isabella,” Joseph whispered. “Go inside for a minute. See if Clay’s parents are in there.”

Isabella looked like she was about to argue, but sighed, kissing Tony on the forehead before walking through the doors. 

Joseph sat down next to Tony, leaning his head against the wall. “Did someone hurt him?” he finally asked. 

Tony shook his head, now staring forward. 

“Did..” his brother trailed off. “Tony, did he hurt himself?”

Silence, again. Tony was becoming comfortable with it now. 

Joseph sighed. “It’s almost sunrise,” he whispered. “How long have you been here?”

Tony looked towards the horizon, surprised to see the beginning of light creeping over it. “He texted me at three.”

Joseph nodded again, moving to stand. “Let’s get you inside, _hermano_. It’s cold out.”

Tony didn’t know what he was talking about, it was warm when he had found Clay, but he realized now that his brother was right, the temperature had seemed to drop some, but he also figured Joseph just didn’t like being outside on the ground. 

His legs were numb as he started to stand, using the wall for support. The sound of the doors opening seemed to loud now, he could hear a heart monitor beeping somewhere in the hospital, people were coughing. 

Matt was standing as Tony walked in, and he realized that Lainie and his sister were nowhere to be seen. “They went to his room,” Matt murmured. “I was about to come out and get you. They… they said he’s going to be okay. That’s all thanks to you, Tony. If you hadn’t brought him here when you did… I don’t know what would have happened,” he moved towards Tony now, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you.”

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly before letting go, as Matt pulled away from him. “Mr. Jensen,” Joseph murmured. “Can you send our sister out? She’s got school in the morning.”

Matt nodded. “Come with me, Tony,” he murmured. “I’ll take you back to the room.”

Tony followed behind him, watching as they came closer to the only closed door in a long hallway, _C. Jensen_ written on a whiteboard on the front. 

Tony hated hospitals, it always meant something bad had happened, and something bad _had_ happened. 

When Matt opened the door, Tony was taken aback by how _small_ Clay looked in the bed. It seemed like he had lost twenty pounds in three hours. It looked like he was dead. 

“Isabella,” Matt said. “Joseph requested you meet him at the waiting room. It’s time to go home and get ready for school.”

Isabella sighed, and normally she’d argue, but Tony knew she wouldn’t, not today. As she passed him, she squeezed his hand. 

Lainie was holding one of Clay’s hands, eyes glazed over with tears. 

“I’m going to get some coffee,” Matt whispered. “Lainie, do you want any?”

Lainie looked like she was going to say no, but with another look at her son, she stood up. “Watch him,” she whispered as she passed by Tony.

They shut the door behind them, and Tony found his way to a seat next to Clay, taking his hand into his own now, wincing at how cold it felt. He laid his head on the bed, and within seconds without his consent, he was dragged into sleep, his body giving in to his exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I did that. He'll probably... be okay. Yeah, probably.
> 
> Say hi on Tumblr > https://www.tumblr.com/blog/underaspark  
> Also you can like follow me on Insta if you feel like it, you don't have to, I just happen to post more on there than I do anywhere else > https://www.instagram.com/jeanne_short/ (Yo my handle is jeanne_short to be easier)
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
> Qué te sucedió? > What happened to you?  
> Hermano > Brother


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound of the door shutting was the catalyst for Tony’s tears to finally start falling silently into the paper-like bedsheet beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, another one?  
> So soon.  
> Yeah, I told you he wouldn't die.  
> Not yet... at least.

**Tony**

Tony wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when someone started shaking his shoulder. “Tony,” there was a voice whispering to him. “Hey, Tony, wake up.”

He blinked groggily, wondering who was whispering to him, wondering who was waking him from his nightmare. He lifted his head, realizing that what had happened was real, that he was still laying his head on the hospital bed. He looked up at who was shaking him, realizing it was Clay’s mom. 

“Oh,” Tony murmured, rubbing at his eyes, trying his hardest not to look at where he knew Clay would be laying. “Sorry, I’ll move.”

Lainie shook her head, sitting in a chair that was on the other side of Clay’s bed. “Matt went home,” she murmured. “To bring some pajamas for me, said I shouldn’t stay in the same clothes for long. Your mom called a little while ago,” she added, looking towards Clay. “Asked me if I wanted her to come get you. I told her you were fine.”

Tony cocked his head slightly. Why would she want him to stay? He was the one who brought her son in here nearly dead. She should probably blame him.

“You’re a good friend, Tony,” he realized she had still been speaking. “I’m glad Clay has you. I can’t,” she choked on a sob, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he didn’t have you to turn to. Thank you.”

Tony swallowed thickly, unable to look at her anymore, looking around the room instead. The monitor next to Clay’s bed was beeping, a steady heartbeat showing. 

He looked out the door, propped slightly open now, revealing the blank white walls and white floors beyond it. 

“Did you know?” Lainie’s voice came through suddenly again. “I mean… I shouldn’t ask, but… did you? Know that he was going to do this? Or maybe that he had any ideas about it? I didn’t… I’m his mom and I didn’t notice.”

Tony closed his eyes for a minute, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered. “I didn’t know. I mean maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I knew something was wrong, but I thought he was still upset about Hannah. I thought… I never thought he would do something like this.”

Lainie nodded, stroking her thumb over Clay’s other hand. “I never should’ve given him those pills. I should’ve locked them up or.. Or something.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Mrs. Jensen,” Tony told her. “You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”

Lainie gave him a tearful smile. “Thank you, Tony,” she whispered. 

They lapsed into silence, the only sound in the room was the beeping of the heart monitor, reassuring them that Clay was still alive.

…

Clay was in the hospital for three more days before he woke up. The doctor’s called it a medically induced coma. They put him under to help his body heal. 

Tony was in class when he got the text from Lainie - on an old phone he’d kept in case something had happened to his. 

**He’s awake.**

He was in English class. He stood from his desk, ignoring the protests from his teacher as he ran out the door, and then out the front doors, to his car. 

It was the second time in less than a week that the car ride seemed to take forever and no time at all. 

He rushed through the hospital doors, past the nurse at the front desk, to Clay’s room, the door closed. 

Tony swallowed thickly, suddenly terrified to open the door. He almost turned away, almost walked away, back to his car. 

The decision was made for him, when the door was opened by a doctor, who nodded to Tony as he walked past. Tony took a deep breath, walking into the room now, seeing Clay sitting up in the bed. He didn’t look much different than he had when Tony brought him in. He had lost weight over the last three days, he had dark purple and blue circles under his eyes, and his eyes lacked the light that used to be in them.

“Tony,” Lainie’s voice was a mixed of relief, excitement, and sadness. Tony couldn’t figure out how all those emotions could fit into one voice. 

Tony walked further into the room, seeing Clay’s eyes follow his movements. “Hey,” Tony whispered, standing somewhat awkwardly near the end of Clay’s bed, not sure what to do, not sure he wasn’t imagining that his friend was awake now, that he wasn’t on his way to the morgue. 

And then Clay managed to give him a small smile and in that second, every emotion Tony had been feeling rushed in. Tears welled up in his eyes and he nearly collapsed into the chair next to Clay’s right side, laying his head on the bed where he had slept that first night. 

“Matt,” Lainie’s voice was quiet. “Let’s give Tony a moment.”

The sound of the door shutting was the catalyst for Tony’s tears to finally start falling silently into the paper-like bedsheet beneath him. 

A few seconds later he felt Clay’s hand on the back of his head, for a moment just resting there, before slowly - and shakily - running his fingers through it. “Have- have you gotten any sleep?” Clay’s voice sounded like it hurt him to speak. 

Tony shook his head, not speaking now. 

Clay sighed, or it was more like a huff, and Tony felt the bed shift. “Come on,” Clay mumbled. 

Tony frowned slightly, lifting his head up to see what he was talking about, and saw that his friend had moved over a bit, enough for Tony to lay on the bed next to him. 

Tony thought about arguing, thought about telling Clay that it could be dangerous, he could hurt him - he seemed so frail now, that he could get sick from being so close to him in the state Clay was in.

But he was tired. Too tired to argue. 

So he climbed onto the bed next to him and it was barely seconds later that he was asleep.

…

**Clay**

In the moment it had happened, Clay wasn’t thinking about anyone but himself. He realized that now, now that he had woken up. “You’ve been in a coma for three days,” his mom had told him. “Tony brought you in.”

Clay couldn’t figure out how Tony had brought him in, didn’t remember it when his parents had told him that he’d texted Tony for help. He remembered waking from his nightmare and that was it. It was like his body was on autopilot and he was defenseless to stop himself. 

When he’d woken up, his mother had cried. His dad had stood in the corner of his hospital room, staring at him like he thought it was an illusion. 

And then Tony had shown up. He’d been at the edge of Clay’s bed for a few minutes, looking even more unsure of what he was seeing than his dad had. And now he was asleep next to him, dried tear tracks on his cheeks. 

Clay had never really seen Tony cry. Not like he had just now. There was a wet spot on his bed where Tony’s head had been a few minutes before. 

His brain was foggy, his throat hurt, his whole body felt heavy, his head hurt even more now than it had after his fight.

And he was angry. He was angry at Tony for bringing him in here. He was angry at the doctors for keeping him alive when he obviously had tried to die. But most importantly, he was angry at himself. He was angry at himself for what he’d put his family through. He was angry at himself for doing this. He was angry at himself for hurting Tony like he had. 

How could he do that to his friend?

He shook his head, wondering who else knew what had happened. If the whole school knew, or at least knew he was in the hospital. If they cared. 

Tony moved a bit in his sleep and Clay looked down at him. He wondered why Tony had cared so much about him, enough that he’d come and found him. Enough that he’d brought him to the hospital. His dad told him that Tony had been crying outside the hospital after he’d brought him in. That he had to call in his sister. That he found the pieces of Tony’s phone outside when his dad had left to go get his mom different clothes. 

No one had ever cared that much about it, aside from his parents. No friend had done anything like that for him. 

He thought about Alex. He wondered if he was in this hospital somewhere. If he was in the room next to him. If he’d died while Clay had been here. 

He thought about a lot while he lay there, and after a few minutes, he ended up falling asleep too. 

**…**

Clay’s parents came back about half an hour later, finding Clay and Tony asleep on the hospital bed together. 

Lainie had smiled, walking to her son’s side and putting a hand over his heart, a small affirmation to her that he was still there. 

“Tony’s a good friend,” Matt said, holding a styrofoam cup of stale coffee. “He’s a good guy.”

Lainie nodded, sitting down in the uncomfortable chair. “He is,” he agreed. “Clay needs someone like that in his life. Especially now. I just hope he doesn’t push Tony away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr > https://underaspark.tumblr.com  
> Or follow me on Instagram > @jeanne_short  
> Hope you enjoyed, leave kudos and comments if you did.  
> Adiós.


End file.
